


The Lure of Machinery

by rynling



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Engineer Husbands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynling/pseuds/rynling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Setzer and Edgar make a wager on a derelict airship that just might be able to change the fate of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lure of Machinery

The beams of electric spotlights cut white lines through the vast darkness of the cavern. They were all focused on a wooden ship supported over a chasm by an intricate network of steel girders. On the deck of the ship, which had only touched water once, Sabin and Celes used knotted rope and iron pillars to create a structure intended to cradle a small mountain of oiled canvas. They seemed to be having trouble following the blueprints they had been given, but they continued working nonetheless, occasionally sending up bouts of laughter and cursing. Edgar reflected on how close they had grown, and the warmth of the thought brought a touch of relief to his overworried mind.

Having just delivered water to the two tireless workers, he now climbed a set of rickety stairs leading to a flat outcropping of rock spreading before a large indentation in the cavern wall that had been designated as a storage area for barrels of chemicals. The stone plateau was bathed in the soft light of three gas lanterns and the glow of sparks thrown by an old-fashioned hand welder. As Edgar approached the top of the stairs, a bright flash was followed by a stream of creatively abusive language.

Setzer slammed the welder's handpiece down in frustration and withdrew a flask from a makeshift holster that he had fashioned from two spare insulated cables and twined around his waist. As he absentmindedly took a swig, Setzer reached into the bulking machine in front of him with his bare hand and was promptly rewarded with a jolt of electricity large enough to make him drop the flask, which began spilling amber liquid onto the rocky ground.

Edgar judged this to be an appropriate moment to intervene. He cleared his throat. Setzer turned to him in annoyance, raising his welding googles to his forehead. "Perhaps this may serve instead," Edgar suggested, offering a water skin. Setzer took it without hesitation and immediately raised it to his lips. He drank greedily. A thin stream of water ran down his chin.

Despite the potential danger of flying sparks, Setzer had been working shirtless, his long hair bound in a hastily constructed topknot. He was covered in sweat. As Setzer had explained to Edgar, the geothermally heated cavern provided the perfect conditions for the preservation of the Falcon; it was moderately warm and very dry. Such an atmosphere might be good for wood and canvas, but it was a difficult climate for manual labor. Edgar had long since removed his own formal breastplate and undone the collar of his shirt. He envied his brother and Celes, who were apparently comfortable wearing almost nothing at all.

As Setzer continued to drink, Edgar lifted a gas lantern and used it to illuminate the cavity in the customized chemical mixer. One of the contraflow agitator blades had fallen slightly out of orbit, and a brief test run of the machine had resulted in an electrical fire that had fried the power generator. Since rebuilding the mixer from scratch would have taken even longer than the snail's pace at which the framework of fins and rings were being assembled below, Setzer had elected to attempt a spot fix. Although Edgar offered to help, Setzer had waved him away, sending him back to the underground river to retrieve a supply of cool water.

Edgar peered inside the generator, but Setzer's haphazard wiring system was so disorganized as to be unintelligible, and Edgar couldn't begin to imagine why Setzer felt the need to apply the flame of a welder to the chaos. Still, if Setzer had managed to shock himself, then he must have been making progress.

"See something you like?"

Edgar turned to find Setzer glaring angrily at him. He couldn't stop himself from smirking. "Must you be so territorial with your toys? Didn't anyone ever teach you to share?"

A dark look crossed Setzer's face, and Edgar feared for a moment that Setzer might strike him before he suddenly burst into laughter. Setzer shook his head at Edgar's quizzical glance. "Daryl used to say the same thing," he explained, smiling.

Setzer stepped away from the mixer and gestured for Edgar to sit with him on the wooden crate, offering him his flask in the process. After lowering himself with a sigh of relief, Edgar took a sip. He noted with disdain that the flask was already half empty, but the whiskey was smoky and smooth and quenched a profound thirst. He took another sip and handed the flask back to Setzer.

The pair sat in silence, gazing down at the Falcon, which had once been hailed as the fastest airship in the world. Edgar remembered eagerly following accounts of its launch while, somewhere in the back of his mind, resenting his obligation to remain bound to his desert castle.

"Do you think it will fly?" he asked.

"Who can say?" Setzer responded, taking another sip from his flask before passing it to Edgar.

"Surely you can be more specific than that."

"If we can successfully manufacture the helium gas, and if the neither the primary nor the secondary bag has sprung a hole that we haven't yet caught, and if the dry air hasn't deteriorated the rigging, and if the engine is still operational, and if we can manage to ensure that the power is delivered properly to the propellers, then I'd say we have about a fifty-fifty chance of gathering enough lift and momentum to clear the launch tunnel. Assuming the tunnel hasn't twisted or collapsed, of course."

"I would say that those are somewhat negative odds."

Setzer laughed. "I would say that those are betting odds. The real trouble will come when this ship is finally in the sky. We've got everything from bizarre weather to dragons to worry about, and I highly doubt that the ship's navigational system is aligned with the current magnetic poles. And let's not forget that the Light of Judgment could strike us down at any time."

"Cheers to that." Edgar took a toast from the flask and fell silent, allowing the warmth of the whiskey to spread through him.

Meanwhile, Setzer had removed his welding goggles and retrieved the water skin from where Edgar had set it down on a nearby crate. He poured water onto one hand and then into the other before splashing his face. He picked up his cast-off shirt and used it to dry himself. Edgar watched him with interest.

"What will you do when this is over?" Edgar asked.

"Be thrown into an unmarked grave, I suppose," Setzer replied, shrugging into his shirt.

"And should we succeed?"

"I hadn't given it much thought. As you so aptly remarked, the odds are against us."

"Well then, let's make a bet. Shall we?"

"I'm intrigued. Do continue."

"If we fail, then you win. We may die ignominiously, but we will have enjoyed some measure of freedom and flight while we lived. If we restore balance to the world, and come out alive, then I win. We both return to my kingdom, where you will remain for three months."

"A quarter of a year is a long time."

"Yes, but I believe we can find ways to make the time pass. Haven't you ever wondered how Figaro Castle works? How it moves within the sands? How we keep it running without Magitek? There are many who would give anything to stand within the engine rooms, and I'm offering you free run of them. I have built a paradise for people like us. If we survive, stay there with me."

Edgar's eyes were shining, and he could see that Setzer's interest was piqued.

"Do we have a deal?" Edgar offered his hand to Setzer.

Setzer took it. "I like the game you play. What have I got to lose?"

"Nothing but your life, of course."

"Those are odds I can bet on."

The two men grinned over their clasped hands.


End file.
